Disclaimer: All things HP related belong to the remarkable JKR.

Eros - erotic love

Philia - affectionate, platonic love

Storge - familiar love

Ludus - playful love

Mania - obsessive love

Pragma - enduring love

Agape - selfless love

Philautia - love of one's self

Prologue

July 2023

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Rose stirred to the sound of some very enthusiastic knocking on the door, groaning into the arm she had casually thrown over her face.

"Rose? Are you okay?" Someone called. A female voice. Familiar, but not one she could place right this moment.

There was a small shuffle and some muttering before she heard another voice. "Rosie? It's me, Al. Is everything alright?" He paused. "If you don't reply in 10 seconds I'm going to Allohamora this lock."

Ugh. She swung her arm away from her eyes. What the hell was their problem? Why couldn't they just let her sleep in peace?

And why wouldn't she be alright?

It was just then that she pushed herself up in irritation and registered the hard cold surface she rested her palm on, a marble floor. Her pillow was not so much a pillow but a towel, and she was still fully dressed in her emerald green chiffon dress.

Fuck.

She flinched as she looked around the bathroom and took in the smell of stale alcohol and vomit…that seemed to be emanating from the toilet. No need to look in there and find out what happened.

"Okay, we're coming in!" Albus shouted, just before muttering an 'allohomora' and pushing the door open.

She felt even more pathetic when she saw the three people on the other side of the door, their faces plastered with pity and sadness and confusion. Swimming in a slight blur.

Her friend Lizzie dropped to her knees beside Rose and brushed aside some stray strands pressed into her clammy face. "That was really gutsy, Rose, what you did in there."

Or just plain stupid.

"Yeh, at least he knows how you feel now," Chris mumbled from above.

Noting the rotten taste in her mouth, Rose looked skyward and thought how she got into this mess. It was supposed to be simple and carefree but something had gone wrong along the way and she blamed him, the liar. The liar, Scorpius Malfoy.

- x X x -

Chapter One

- x X x -

December 2022

Rose was having shitty Christmas.

It started off as it always had: all her Weasley uncles and her Aunt Ginny with their spouses and many, many offspring packed into Grandma and Grandpa Weasley's house. There were so many of them they had to sleep on makeshift mattresses, on the floor, on tables – sometimes as many as six of them in a room. When they were younger, it had been fun for all the cousins to cram into the space, making blanket fortresses and playing games until the early hours of Christmas morning (much to the annoyance of all their parents down the hall) but now, several years later, the sleeping arrangements hadn't really changed. She still shared her mattress on the floor with Lily (who snored, by the way), and where she and James used to play kick at each other when they were younger he was now just outright kicking her, trying to steal her leg space with his long and lanky limbs. It wasn't so playful anymore.

She had woken up quite late and in a foul mood – mainly due to the sleepless night but also, in part, because of her bruised legs and cricked neck – and gone down for Christmas Breakfast with the family only to find that there was very little left except for over-stewed mushrooms and mince-pies. The only thing that made her perk up was the sight of the morning post that the owls had dropped off, swathes of letters from their various friends that had been magically sorted into piles for each recipient in the house. Rose had liked that out of the 'little ones' (as Grandma Weasley still called all her cousins), she had the biggest pile. Literally towering over the rest.

Rose took them all over to the table, beaming as she sat down with some of the morning stragglers: Uncle Harry, Hugo and James.

Her uncle snorted into his tea when she began unfolding the letters over her plate. "I had no idea you teenagers had so much correspondence."

"I think it's just Rose, Dad," James murmured sleepily. "What is it Rose? The whole year wants help with their holiday homework?"

"Nah," her brother answered, before she even had the chance, "It's just gossip from all her friends – Leah, Amelia, Dahlia… or whatever."

"It's not gossip, Hugo. I just have a lot friends and we like to discuss all manner of things," she explained.

"Oh yeah?" James drawled, "Like what?"

"Hair." Hugo mocked, entirely too pleased with himself and, most annoyingly, to the great amusement of James and Uncle Harry.

Curse her brother for making her sound so vapid. Gossip? She was one of the top students in her year, a prefect, a regular contributor to the student newspaper and chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There was every reason to believe these letters contained something important.

She didn't even dignify her cousin and brother with anything more than eye-roll before she got back to her letter from Camelia about some of her housemates' post-Yule Ball antics in the broom cupboard.

A few minutes later, she had been left alone and found herself skimming through another one of Amelia Heartfield's incomprehensible letters. She always went on for pages and pages, skipping from one topic to another that Rose hardly gave any notice to most of it.

Except she caught the tail end of a sentence. 'Just ignore what they're saying about you…' It said.

What were they saying about her? And who?

She flipped the page back and forth, shuffled through the others for more detail. It was just like Amelia to drop such a vague statement and not elaborate on the pages that followed.

She thought she could have ignored her. Maybe Amelia had got confused? It wasn't uncommon. But then she opened the next letter and it had opened with, 'Hope you're having a good holiday. Just wanted to write and see if you were alright?' As she'd gone further her heart started beating so hard she could feel the blood pulsing in her ear. Then she read the next letter. Then the next.

'…don't worry about it…'

'I'm here if you want to talk…'

'…it doesn't make you a slag… It wasn't even that bad!'

'He's such an arse!'

'...I promise I didn't look at the photo but people said you look good.'

The photo?

Fuck. Emery Littlewood.

What had he done? Merlin, she was so stupid. And he was such a fucking arsehole.

In amongst those letters were unsigned ones by cowards who hid behind anonymity, single sentences like 'Looking good Weasley.' 'Wanna take a ride on my broomstick?' 'If you think Myrtle moans then wait 'til you spend a night with me.' Others were just lewd drawings, often very poor but enough to get the gist.

Rose gathered up the letters, opened and unopened, tears building on her lower lids.

She'd forgotten about it. The photo. It felt like ages ago but it was only a few months back when she and Emery Littlewood had been flirting a little, fooling around in some alcoves and under the Quidditch stands. She had quite liked him, being as charming as he was, nice-looking, a Gryffindor Quidditch player, and she really had thought he was interested in her. It had taken a little while to realise he was probably more interested in seeing what was up her skirt than anything else and she knew she wasn't ready for anything like that with him. Not the way he wanted it anyway. Perhaps it was naïve but she had kind of imagined a trip to Hogsmeade together and tea at Madame Pudifoot's first before they got onto the… romping. Was that the right word? Anyway, she had let him know that she would be taking her time and a week later he was on to some Ravenclaw who gave him what he wanted. Then he had got bored of her too.

Rose was honestly so happy to have dodged that bullet that she'd totally forgotten about the advice she had taken from her friend, Camelia Davenport, before they broke up (if you could really call it a break up). Camelia had suggested that Rose take a photo – in the nude – and then slip it into Emery's books so he would find it unexpectedly.

"It'll be a sexy little surprise," Camelia had said with an excited lilt, "And he'll know you're atleast thinking about it."

Rose hadn't been comfortable with nude, or even topless but she'd done it in her underwear. Brand new, purchased-specially-for-the-occasion underwear with pale blue, shear material so he could just see her nipples and possibly tell that she was neatly shaven under her knickers.

She hadn't wanted something too over-the-top, her aim was 'casual sexy' with her sitting on her bed, legs crooked and smiling. A few wisps of her hair fell from her messy bun and the motion of the picture had caught a slight jiggle of her breasts. She remembered being so pleased, after several attempts, to get the final shot. Now she cringed to think of it.

Urgh.

How many people had seen her like that? Shit. What was everyone going to say? She already had a lot of attention because she was Rose Granger-Weasley, daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger the war heroes, Harry Potter's sidekicks. Then she was a good student and deeply involved in all aspects of Hogwarts life… Her professors would be so disappointed. 'How could Rose Weasley do this?' They would ask. 'How could the daughter of Hermione Granger do this?'

Oh shit. Her parents.

Her dad still thought of her as his innocent little girl, he would probably tear his hair out! And her mother – the paragon of virtue and all things good, fighting for equal rights and respect for women in the magical community while her own daughter was part of a sex scandal? What if it made it to the national papers?

She could just imagine her mother telling her off right now:

'When I was your age I didn't have time to do stuff like this. Do you want to know why? Because I was too busy fighting a fucking war!'

Except she wouldn't swear; her mother never did that. Because she was so damn perfect in every way. She would have thought this all through. Why hadn't Rose?

"Hey. Are you… okay?"

She jumped as Albus suddenly appeared out of nowhere and hurried to shield her letters from him. Not that he would look, he wasn't like that.

"I'm fine," she replied. She was trying to go for nonchalant and thought she'd done a good job of it but he, being Albus, obviously picked up on her lie.

They'd been almost inseparable up until they went off to Hogwarts together and had known each other like the back of their hands: every habit, like, dislike, and they could tell when something was up just by the tone of their voice. They would call each other their 'best friends' rather than 'cousins.' Then Albus had been sorted into Slytherin and made friends with Scorpius Malfoy, and they just stopped hanging out together. Even to this day, however, it seemed he was still the best, out of her massive extended family and entire friend group, at sensing when she was unhappy.

"Okay," He said sceptically, "Well, I'm here if you need something..." He started to retreat from the room before quickly turning back. "Oh, and Grandma told us to come to the living room to open presents – I wonder what she could possibly have for all of us," he added with a sarcastic grin, since they both knew it would be more scarves and knitwear to add to sixteen years' worth of birthday and Christmas presents.

Rose gave a weak laugh. "I don't know how she still manages to knit for all of us."

"Grandpa says she starts in May. Got to love her for that."

She nodded in agreement and shoved her letters aside. She'd have to deal with that fiasco at some point, but not now.

- x X x -

"Rose! Come on, we're leaving!"

She quickly stashed some extra books in her bag before rushing downstairs to the fireplace where her mother fussed over Hugo's hair, trying to neaten it up to no avail.

"There you are," she smiled, turning her grooming attentions to her now. Although it was of little use to be honest, Rose's hair was always a little unruly – she had inherited her father's vivid colour but the body, waves and unruliness was her Mum's. "We need to get you to your Uncle and Aunt's house so your Dad and I aren't late catching the ferry."

Her parents were celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary, just the two of them, and her father had insisted on doing it 'the muggle way.' That apparently meant taking the most inefficient route to Paris: driving to Dover, catching the ferry and driving for many more hours in a foreign country, on the wrong side of the road. Her father, of course, wanted to drive the whole way to prove he could but Rose just knew they would probably end up get stuck on those 'roundabout thingies' (as he called them) for ages and bickering for hours afterwards.

"And you're sure we have to go to Uncle Harry's?" Rose moaned, "The two of us could handle it here alone while you're gone. I'm almost 17 and Hugo practically takes care of himself…"

Hermione frowned at her daughter, "Almost being the operative word. You're still a wizarding minor and you're not even able to apparate or legally conduct magic outside of Hogwarts. I don't know what kind of mother you think I am that would leave my children defenceless like that… And anyway, what's the matter with you going to your Uncle and Aunt's? You always like going to Grimmauld Place."

It was true, she did. Rose loved spending time with her cousins, her aunt and uncle were really relaxed about things and they had a wonderful library of old and mysterious books. Only this time she knew that there was a high chance that at least one of her cousins had heard something about this stupid photo of hers and she didn't want to have to talk about it. She wanted a few more days in hiding before she had to go back to school and face it all.

Rose hadn't bothered to fight her mother any further – the woman did it for a living, afterall, so she grudgingly sought out her bags and a few minutes later she was crumpled on the living room floor of Grimmauld Place with Hugo (because he never ever listened about giving her time to clear the fireplace on the other side and always barreled in seconds after, bags and all).

Aunt Ginny chuckled as she picked them up off the floor and gave them a quick kiss each before running off to work.

"Help yourself to anything you want to eat. Lily's at a sleepover tonight. Al's around… somewhere," she said breathlessly as she gathered her bag and coat with half an eye on the clock. "Oh, and if he forgets can you tell Kreacher that it's seven for dinner?"

"Um, okay. Is James - ?" Rose began, but they both heard their aunt shouting a hurried 'bye' and the door slam, leaving Rose and Hugo alone again.

- x X x -

Grimmauld Place was endless floors of small corridors and bedrooms, so many that Rose and Hugo practically had their own rooms and she knew exactly where to take her stuff, which she promptly did (without magic because, rather annoyingly, she was still underage) and then rather curtly rebuffed Hugo's questions about watching a movie of playing exploding snap to while away the time.

"Why not, Rose?" Hugo whined through the door she had just shut in his face.

"Because I've got better things to do with my time!" She threw herself back on the bed and stared forlornly at the cracking plaster of the ceiling.

"Like what?"

"Homework, reading, breathing." Moping about how half her house may have seen her tits. "All better uses of my time."

Vaguely she remembered her mother telling her to be less dismissive of Hugo and, she had to admit, she could be rather harsh towards him. He was just so hyperactive and boyish when she really preferred quieter pursuits. They clashed and brought out each other's pettiness and immaturity which was a side of herself Rose certainly did not like but she often couldn't help it around him.

Just as she considered giving in to that movie she heard the creak of a floorboard indicating that he had given up on her.

It was alright, she'd make it her new year's resolution to be nicer to him.

- x X x -

The library of Grimmauld Place was on the fifth floor, stacked high from floor to ceiling with an extensive and varied collection of magical tomes, including a number of the ancestral texts of the Black family, the family of Uncle Harry's godfather. She was sure that none of the Potters must spend very much time in there because she had come across some quite dubious books of questionable ideologies stashed in the corners of its many shelves and she was very sure that neither her aunt nor uncle would want any of their children getting their hands on them. She had just taken an old Astronomy tome down to her room, reading with her legs outstretched in front of her on the bed, when she heard a mild tapping on her door.

She had already blurted out a lazy 'yeh' or 'what?' before remembering that this wasn't home and Hugo wasn't the best at knocking.

"I mean – "

"Oh, it's okay I can come back in a little while," Albus said sheepishly through the door.

"No, no. Al, come in!" Rose cried, placing the book aside and making for the door.

There was a pause before Albus quietly turned the knob and stepped inside, making sure to stay close to the door so as not to intrude too much.

Her brows furrowed slightly at the space between them, at Albus' awkward stance near the door and her heart pounding nervously. She couldn't place the point at which things had got weird between them, when they had stopped marching into each others rooms without needing a reason, when they'd stopped being able to ramble on for hours to each other about the silliest things

"Hi," he greeted tentatively.

"Hi."

"Do you... have everything you need?"

"Uh, yeh. Yes."

"What about tea or coffee? Maybe lunch? You must be hungry, I can get Kreacher to make something."

Tea or coffee? What was this, a business meeting?

"I'm fine," she smiled, plopping back onto the bed.

"Okay. Well, I just wanted to let you know that – um – Scorpius is coming over."

"Oh." So it wasn't James coming round for dinner. "Well…that's fine."

Fine. What a horrible word.

"He's staying over," he said again, "For about a week."

"Okay, Al," she said slowly with an exaggerated smile.

"I just wanted to check if you're okay with that."

"He's your friend. This is your house – you can have whoever you like over."

Was it her or was Albus acting a little weird? Granted she wasn't close with Scorpius Malfoy but they vaguely acknowledged each other's presence and she could generally get on with most people. Certainly be cordial enough to get through a week in this massive house, they could have separate floors for themselves.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay with everything," Albus said uncertainly.

"Okay," she smiled, "Well I am."

"Okay."

He was leaving and she was gathering up her book from her bed when she suddenly thought –

"Albus… Why wouldn't I be alright? What do you know?"

"Know? Me?"

That face was a dead giveaway: stoic and expressionless, as if he was schooling his features.

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "You're a terrible liar for a Slytherin, Albus Potter," she said with a pursed lips and a raised eyebrow

"That's not true, I lie to my parents all the ti – "

"Well then just remember I know you, Albus." She wanted to remind him about all the times the two of them had played pranks on their family when they were younger and blamed in on their other cousins. "I know when you're covering up something… Oh Merlin. You know, don't you?"

He paused for a split second, probably to weigh up his options, and then gave a resigning sigh.

"Fine. Yes, I know... Emery's in my Astronomy class and he was – you know – showing… people." Albus admitted with a wince.

"Oh God." Rose buried her face in her hands. "Oh God!" She threw her hands back off her face in exasperation, her wild red curls springing back. "Did you see?"

"What? Ew! No!" Albus shook his hands frantically at her, his eyes stretched disturbingly wide.

"Wow, thanks Al…"

"You know I don't mean it like that, Rosie – It's just – "

"I know…" She moaned. "Ugh, did Scorpius Malfoy see? Is that why – "

"No, he didn't look. I mean, he knew Emery was passing round a… revealing photo of you but he didn't look."

"Really?" She asked sceptically. In her experience of teenage boys none of them were usually so honourable as to miss out on chance to see a girl naked, if not for wanking escapades then just to objectify, compare and contrast with what other girls would probably look like naked. Emery Littlewood being case in point.

"Really," Albus insisted, taking a further step into the room, "He's decent, you know?"

She didn't know what she was really meant to say, she hardly knew the guy afterall and with all those letters she'd got yesterday she was starting to think decency was hard to come by. Her major concern though, was that this photo thing was a much bigger issue than she had originally thought. It wasn't just her group of Gryffindors who knew, it had reached other houses and Emery had been sharing it around in his classes like a bowl of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. The prick.

"Anyway…" Albus finally said after her long silence, "I was just letting you know so you could prepare or whatever."

Prepare? What did he think she could do? Go back in time and slap some sense into herself before she took the darn photo? Run away? Make herself invisible?

Wait. That last option was quite feasible what with Uncle Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Yeh," she replied quietly, her eyes directed at nothing in particular.

"And if you want to talk, you know... " He shrugged, uncertain whether he would really be of any comfort to her but she appreciated the gesture. That was the other thing about Albus, he never forced his way into a matter and foisted unsolicited advice upon people, but then again that was a distinctly Gryffindor trait and he was not a Gryffindor.

Rose watched him as he began to slink away unassumingly. "Thanks Al," she called after him, and he simply gave her a trademark lopsided grin before he closed the door and left her to her ponder what a mess she had got herself into.

- x X x -

A/N: Hi all, this is my first piece of fanfic so be easy on me ;) but constructive criticism is most welcome! As you can see, it's going to be a multichapter coming of age drama and so I'm aware that Rose may not be the most likeable person but I hope you can still sympathise with her in some way. At the beginning of the chapter I wrote the 8 types of love that the Greeks distinguished between and I want Rose to learn about each one of those at some point in the story, not just romantic love or lust.

Anyway, I'll let the story speak for itself so thanks for reading my first chapter and let me know what you think in the reviews!